Mad Men
by kikyo1027
Summary: Itachi goes mad and finally kills Sasuke, afterwords He feels guilty that he killed his only brother. Oneshot.


Mad Man

By: Kikyo1027

Based on a short story The Tale Tell Heart

By: Edgar Allen Poe

True! Nervous. Very, very, nervous. I was and I still am, nervous. But why _will_ you say that I am mad? This disease has sharpened my senses, not destroyed them. Above all my sense of hearing was persise. I heard all the things in Heaven and on Earth. I've heard many things in Hell. How, then, am I mad? Let me tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how the first idea had entered my brain; but once it was concieved, it haunted me day and night. Object, there was none. Passion, there was none. I loved my brother. He had never wronged me. He has never given me insult. For his money I had no desire. I think it was his eye. Yes! It was his eye! He had the eye of a vulture -- a bright red eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees I very gradually I made up my mind to take my brother's life, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the point, you fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how I widly procceded, with caution, with foresight, with what dissmulation I went to work! I was never kinder to Sasuke before I killed him. And every night ( about mid night), I turned the latch of his door and opened it ( ever so gently). And then, when the opening was big enough for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrusted in! I moved it slowly, very, very, slowly so that I might not disturb my brothers sleep. It took me an hour before I could see him as he slept in his bed. Ha! Would a madman be this wise? And then, when my head was in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously ( oh so cautiously for the hinges creaked.). I undid it so that only a single slim ray fell across the vulture eye. And I did this for seven long nights, every night around mid-night, but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible for me to do the work; for it was not Sasuke I wanted, but his evil eye. And every morning, when day broke, I went bodly into his room and spoke to him couragoesly, calling him by his name in a cheerful tone, and inquiring how his sleep was. He was a very oblivious boy for him to not suspect that every night at mid-night I was looking in on his sleeping.

When the eighth night came, I was even more cautious opening the door. The hand on a clock moved more quickly than mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers. I could hardly contain my feeling of triumph. To think here I was, opening his door, little by little, and him not even knowing. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think I moved back... but no. His room was black as pitch with the thick darkness. I knew he could not see the opening of the door, so I kept pushing forward.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and Sasuke sprang up on the bed, crying out," Who's there?"

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was just sitting on the bed, listening, just as I would have done.

Soon, I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many nights ago, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the Sasuke felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. _All in vain;_ because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to _feel_ the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a single dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.

It was open --wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness --all a dull red, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the Sasuke's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over acuteness of the senses? --now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the Sasuke's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The his terror _must_ have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well? I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbor! The boy's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. My brother was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye -- not even _his_ --could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all --ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, --for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect elegance, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbor during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. My brother, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: --it continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness --until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.

No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath -- and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent motions; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men -- but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they _knew!_ --they were making a mockery of my horror! --this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this ridicule! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! --and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! _louder!_ --

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! --here, here! --it is the beating of his hideous heart!"

So there's another one of my creepy stories. I felt the need to write one last thing about Itachi before my brian goes dead ( no not literally).

Tobi: Maybe if Sasuke was a good boy, he wouldn't have died! And Itachi would have given him an reward!

Which reminds me, please review, because when people read this and don't review Tobi hit's his head

Tobi: Please, do it for the adorable one in the Akatsuki!


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